


Hiding in Plain Sight

by Kaerra



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Being open and honest is challenging, F/M, Fluff and Humor, It's fun to invent Faerghus customs for dancing, Lead up to the Garreg Mach Ball, Minor Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28184730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaerra/pseuds/Kaerra
Summary: The weekend before the Garreg Mach Ball, Caspar invites Hilda for tea in the dining room. She is more than happy to attend--until Annette puts it into her head that maybe there's more to the invitation than simple friendship. But Caspar isn't the kind of dance partner Hilda had visualized sweeping her off her feet at the ball, even if he keeps surprising her with his honesty and thoughtfulness. When an old Faerghus custom of asking for someone's first dance creates humorous ball-related drama in the middle of Hilda and Caspar's not-date, will she get caught up in the excitement after all?Written for the amazing roxyryoko for her (very very belated) birthday!
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	Hiding in Plain Sight

Hilda Goneril supposed she ought to be grateful that it wasn’t snowing.

Being outside on the monastery grounds in Ethereal Moon was bad enough, where the frigid air felt like it would pierce through her heavy woolen cloak and burrow into her bones. But spending most of her Saturday morning weeding by herself in an out of the way courtyard, doing the work she was technically supposed to have completed by yesterday felt like torture.

Surveying the collection of four metal pails, partially filled with weeds, Hilda’s spirits dropped farther.

“Oh, this is going to take _forever_!” she grumbled under her breath. “I can’t believe my wretched bad luck. No one’s around to help me, and after Raph covered for me yesterday with Professor Hanneman, I feel too guilty to ask him again. I’m doomed.”

She dropped to the ground with a heavy sigh, and resumed weeding, pulling up grass in large fistfuls till her fingers began to ache. Why hadn’t she thought to bring some heavy gloves? Her nails were going to be destroyed at this rate, and the Garreg Mach Ball was less than a week away. She’d wanted to spend the afternoon in the marketplace, looking for cute accessories to glam up their formal evening uniforms, the boring required dress code. At least some cute hair bands or ribbons would be some form of personal expression.

The orange ball of the sun gradually climbed overhead. Hilda worked slowly but methodically, periodically standing and exclaiming from the cramps in her legs. Her stomach rumbled, but the grass stubbornly remained poking through a whole section of the paving stones in the courtyard. At this rate, she’d have destroyed nails and be too sore to dance next week. Triple drat and double damn.

“Hey there, Hilda, whatcha doing?”

She spun from her crouch on the ground, startled by the cheerful greeting. Caspar von Bergliez, the chipper ax/brawl specialistfrom the Black Eagles House, had just exited the long stone hallway that bordered the Reception Hall, a wide smile on his face. Immediately, she returned his smile, seeing hope on the horizon for some help—till she realized that Caspar was so young and earnest, it was almost like taking advantage of a kid brother. She couldn’t play Holst—if he were interested in dodging his obligations, that is—to a pure-spirited person like Caspar.

Full of bile over the sudden fit of conscience, she answered him honestly. “I’m having a morning, doing my weeding.”

“Yeah, I can see you’ve made a lot of progress, but this is a pretty big courtyard.” He walked over and surveyed the area, a frown marring his normally animated face. “Is this your House assignment? Why isn’t someone helping you?”

“Well… Raph and I were assigned to weeding duty, and let’s just say he did most of it. And covered for me with Professor Hanneman, as long as I got my portion done.” She shrugged her shoulders under the heavy cloak. “I’ve got to finish it before the Professor comes to check, so Raph doesn’t get in trouble, too.”

What was it with her honesty around Caspar? She braced herself for the inevitable: disappointment, and a lecture on the injustice of manipulating other people for her own ends.

“Raph is a great guy, I’m glad he was able to bail ya out,” Caspar said, surprising her with his empathy. “But I think the professors were having a meeting with Seteth about the ball arrangements, I passed by where they were meeting earlier. They seemed close to done, and you’ve still got a lot left.”

She shrugged, and yanked several stubborn tufts of grass out by the roots. “Then I’ll be in trouble, even though I’m slow, and I can’t go a lot faster. This isn’t exactly comfortable work, you know?”

Caspar dropped to the ground beside her, balancing on his legs like it was the easiest task in the world. “I’ll help you. We got this, Hilda!”

“Seriously? You’re the best!” Her eyes lit up, till guilt reared its ugly head once more. “But… I didn’t even ask you for a favor! And it’s not like we’re in the same House, so I can’t just take over your chores like Raph did for me.”

“Don’t worry about it!” He waved a hand in the air. “This is easier work for me, I do it regularly for Professor Manuela’s class, and we’re friends, right? That’s what friends do for each other—help out!”

Hilda was torn between relief and astonishment from his peppy speech, shocked that a person that selfless could possibly exist. Surely he wanted something in return? That was how the world was supposed to work… right?

Without further commentary, Caspar grabbed a pail and got to work, going at three times the speed Hilda had slowed to. Relief spread through her, and it was motivational, encouraging her to increase her pace. They worked in companionable silence, steadily filling the pails, and Hilda wondered what she should do to properly thank Caspar for his help.

“Well, this is an unusual sight, Miss Goneril,” drawled a voice that made Hilda freeze.

She whirled to see Seteth standing over her, disapproval written over his face and in every tense line of his body. Oh goddess, why him, of all people? He was already on her case about having missed chores in the past, and this incident would be the third in the last six weeks.

“Why hello there, Seteth!” she beamed at him, hoping she’d successfully buried her panic behind a sunny smile. “Just hard at work here! Much as I appreciate your visit, I would love to get back to it before my legs cramp again.”

“Just a moment, Miss Goneril. And do stand up, if you’re truly in active discomfort,” Seteth instructed, crossing his arms in the normal posture he used with her. “Mr. von Bergliez, why are you here helping this tardy student with chores that were supposed to be done yesterday?”

Nervously, Hilda stood, casting a guilty look at Caspar. Now she’d gone and done it, gotten them both in trouble, and she hadn’t even _asked_ for a favor this time!

Caspar’s response shocked her further.

“Hey now, I think you’re being a bit harsh on Hilda,” he said, hopping to his feet and coming to stand beside her. “I only passed by a few minutes ago and saw her doing this all by herself.”

“Was she indeed?” Seteth raised a single brow in a way Hilda wished she could imitate. “And she didn’t just beg you for assistance, out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I wouldn’t do that!” she protested, struck by the oddity that she really meant it this time. “I recognize this is my responsibility, and I was trying my best to do a complete job, even if it’s slow.”

“That’s right, I offered to help her!” Caspar persisted, his voice earnest and surprisingly passionate. “That’s what friends do, and I can’t imagine the goddess would look down on doing good deeds to help others. What matters is that we get the work done, right?”

The content of the words—that he considered her a friend despite their being in different classes—made her feel, well… seen. Valued. And it wasn’t a feeling Hilda knew what to do with.

Seteth frowned, and stroked his chin in pensive thought. Each passing second felt like the moments leading up to Hilda’s doom—perhaps more chores as her punishment? Or worse: a letter to her family, voicing disapproval over Hilda’s performance. She wanted to shrivel and die inside at the very thought of the outburst on that end, and the horrible disappointment she’d have to face in Holst’s next letter.

“You have a point, Mr. von Bergliez,” Seteth said, startling her out of her wretched imaginings.

She gaped when the strict second-in-command to the Archbishop unfolded his arms and abruptly nodded.

“I will excuse the lateness of the chore as long as it’s finished by three ‘o clock this afternoon. You are correct that the goddess would approve of good deeds undertaken from the best of intentions.”

The dour man smiled, and Hilda’s head nearly exploded from the surreal nature of the events—Caspar sticking up for her, Seteth actually listening, and showing hints of actual warmth. If her legs didn’t ache from all of the rising and squatting down, she’d have been certain it was all a dream.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, flashing him a genuine smile. “I appreciate it, and I promise this will be finished soon!”

“Very good,” he said.

With a regal nod to them both, he proceeded on his way. Hilda immediately turned to Caspar and gave him a quick hug.

“Thank you so much for saving my skin!” she said, pulling back. “Seteth seriously has it in for me.”

Caspar shrugged, his cheeks red from the chilly air. “It’s no big deal, honest. Just glad to help you out! Let’s get this done!”

They returned to work, and Hilda’s thoughts shifted towards a determination to do something beyond words. She wasn’t used to feeling indebted to someone else’s genuine kindness, and wanted to repay it.

She looked up, noting the quick progress he’d made in his half of the courtyard; hopefully there wasn’t more than another hour of work left!

“You know, Caspar, it’s so sweet of you to help me out like this! Is there any way I can make it up to you?” she asked. “I make a lot of cute accessories, I’m sure I could create one that’s more manly for you!”

Caspar turned around from where he was crouched beside a nearly full pail, his expression startled. “C’mon, you don’t need to make me anything. The most I’d ever ask for is—”

He roughly turned away and yanked some weeds. What was that about?

“What?” Hilda asked.

Flinging the plants into the pail, he turned and gave her a sheepish smile.

“Just hanging out for food sometime, like for tea, you know? I don’t need anything fancy as a thank you, if you feel like you’ve got to thank me at all.” His gaze sharpened. “Hey, wait a minute! Did you miss lunch doing this?”

Hilda blinked. “Um… maybe? What time is it anyway?”

“After lunch, that’s for sure! I’d finished eating before I came this way. You really had no idea?” Hilda shook her head, and his expression changed. “Okay, tell ya what, let’s rush through the rest of this, and go to the dining hall around three. It’s usually empty then, and we can have a nice tea, grab some extra pastries from the chefs.”

Her stomach rumbled at the thought. “Ooh, that sounds really lovely, thank you!”

They attacked the weeds with a vengeance, and Hilda evaluated with some surprise that she was looking forward to taking tea was someone who didn’t actively want something from her. What kind of rare person was Caspar von Bergliez?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices raised in conversation, ones she immediately recognized: Annette Dominic and Mercedes von Martritz, from the Blue Lions House. She looked up to see them walking towards her purposefully, from the direction of the Knights Hall.

Mercedes’ lovely face transformed into a warm smile when their eyes met. “Oh, there you are, Hilda! We were looking for you, and no one had seen you in ages!”

“Just had some stuff to finish up—with help!” Hilda smiled in Caspar’s direction.

Caspar got to his feet, and Hilda followed suit while everyone exchanged greetings. Then he got back to work, nodding at Hilda to keep talking.

Annette huddled under her own cloak, shoving her gloved hands inside for warmth. “We know you were talking about heading into town to check out some accessories for the ball! How about this afternoon? Mercie and I would love to join you!”

Hilda brightened, then remembered her promise to eat with Caspar. “Oh, that would be a blast, but I missed lunch. Since Caspar has helped me so much, we’re going to have tea after this is finished. But I’d love to go with you tomorrow, assuming our Professors don’t put us to work on something else.”

“Tomorrow works for me!” Annette grinned and turned to Mercedes. “You, too, Mercie?”

Mercedes nodded, and Caspar spoke up, drawing all three girls’ attention.

“Hey, if you’ve already made plans, it’s not a big deal—” he told Hilda.

She shook her head, flashing him a grin. “Nope, I’m good!”

He returned her smile, and it felt… warming somehow. Hilda pondered the odd feeling when Caspar turned back to his work. It was a relief when Mercedes spoke.

“Oh, tea sounds wonderful, especially on this frigid day! I’d adore hosting a lovely tea party sometime, with a lot of snacks, and maybe my mother’s Petits Fours recipe!”

At Hilda’s look of interest, she elaborated. “They’re like bite sized little cakes, usually iced, sometimes savory, with cheese or nuts. They bake fast, and we usually make at least four varieties.”

Annette’s eyes went starry, and she barely contained a squeal of anticipation. “Those sound delicious, Mercie! I wonder if it’s something we can make here?”

Mercedes smiled at her younger friend’s enthusiasm. “Oh, I’m sure, as long as the chefs don’t mind us puttering around in the kitchens a bit. Or sharing a few berry ingredients they might have on-hand.”

“If you do, please make sure to save one for me to try!” Hilda said. “But I need to get back to work, I’m afraid.”

Annette gave her a fist pump, followed by a significant look which was lost on Hilda. “You can do it! We don’t want to keep you from your tea!”

They left, chattering animatedly about whatever treats might be served at the ball. Hilda smiled and shook her head, marveling at their energy when she felt so sapped. But she was determined to finish quickly, in hopes she could head back to her room to freshen up and change into a clean uniform before meeting Caspar in the dining hall. At least her horrible day could turn in a more positive direction!

“Right, let’s get this finished!” she said to Caspar, pumping her fist for emphasis. “I really want that tea!”

“Yeah! We got this!” he cheered, grabbing a fistful of weeds with a flourish.

* * *

With Caspar’s help, they finished weeding shortly after the monastery bells rang at two ‘o clock. The little courtyard was spotless—unlike Hilda’s mangled fingernails. When Caspar had insisted on hauling both of their pails of weeds to the large compost pile by the stables, Hilda had thanked him profusely and hied back to the dormitories to freshen up.

She’d taken advantage of the extra time to use the ladies’ bath house, leaving when the bells tolled the half hour, a personal speed record. Padding back to her room in lounge clothes under a heavy winter robe, she was surprised when she ran into Annette just outside the stairway to the second floor dorm rooms. The orange-haired girl was deep in thought—clearly one she didn’t like, from the look on her face.

“Looking for someone, Annette?”

“Oh!” Annette jerked out of her thoughts, and her face flushed as though she’d been caught talking in the library. “No! Of course I’m not looking for— anyone!”

Hilda cocked her head, intrigued by that strange response. My, my, was Annette too embarrassed to admit she was waiting for someone? But whom? Hilda giggled at the thought of some juicy new gossip—she loved hearing about secret crushes or love affairs—and motioned her to walk upstairs with her. It would be fun to have some girl talk while she got dressed into a spare uniform and touched up her makeup and daily perfume.

“So, was there someone you need me to help you find before I leave for tea?” Hilda asked once both girls were inside her room, and she’d changed a clean uniform.

Annette proved surprisingly resistant to the dangled bait.

“Oh, you haven’t gone yet! I’d just assumed you’d finished already.”

“No way! Can you imagine sitting there in smelly, dirty clothes, with my nails in this state?” Hilda held them up in their chipped glory. “If a girl’s attending tea, she’s got to go looking her best, don’t you think?”

Annette made a little squeal of excitement. “Aw, it’s almost like you’re going on a date with Caspar!”

Hilda rolled her eyes, and sat down in the chair at her desk, which she generally used as a vanity for applying her makeup, or for creating necklaces, earrings, and bracelets. She’d propped up a small mirror at the back of the desk, with several candles flanking it for additional lighting. It wasn’t like she did any studying in her room, anyway—that’s what the library was for.

“Don’t be silly, it’s because he did me a favor,” she said, reaching for a pair of dangling earrings she’d recently created. “Unasked, might I add!”

Annette’s expression turned speculative, and Hilda was taken aback by her next words.

“But he didn’t have to invite you to tea afterwards, did he? Aw, maybe he wants to ask you for your first dance!”

Hilda’s reflection smirked in the mirror, and she finished adjusting her dangling earrings before turning to her companion.

“I’m sure he’s attending the ball,” she said neutrally. “Everyone is talking about it, even the professed grumps. But what makes the first dance special over any of the others?”

“You don’t have that custom in the Alliance?” Annette looked surprised.

Hilda shook her head, feeling the pleasant weight of the earrings brushing against her cheeks. “What, is it like a dating thing?”

“Sort of,” Annette’s expression turned thoughtful. “Faerghus custom for formal courtship has set rules, but there are some traditions before courtship that hold special significance. Like giving your first dance to the person you prefer the most—assuming they’re interested back.”

“It sounds romantic and completely nervewracking for whomever does the asking,” Hilda said. “Who’s supposed to ask, or is it a free-for-all in chilly Faerghus?”

Annette snorted at the description.

“Traditionally it’s been men, but I think that’s less stringent in our more modern time,” she said. “But I wouldn’t want to ask, it sounds horribly stressful. Not that there’s anyone I’d _want_ to give my first dance to more than anyone else, of course!”

Ah ha. An idea sparked in Hilda’s mind and took hold. Perhaps that was why Annette was hanging around the dormitory stairs? Hoping maybe someone she knew was upstairs would be coming down? Someone who could maybe be hinted at enough times to ask what Annette feared to do herself?

“Really, in the Blue Lions House, of all places, you can’t think of someone you’d like to share your first dance with?” Hilda teased.

Annette flushed. Ha, there was someone!

“I don’t know what my House has that’s any different from the others,” Annette said lamely. “But we’re not talking about me. I’m not the one having tea with Caspar!”

As a master of deflection, Hilda recognized a sloppy attempt like that from a mile away. But that was fine, she could bide her time. It was just a matter of figuring out the best way to coax the name of the mystery boy out of her recalcitrant friend, then helping Annette gather her courage to pursue what she wanted—a dance partner.

Hilda herself had no interest in something like that. She wasn’t at the Academy to survey the marriage mart, unlike Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. Her future was going to be filled with stuffy obligations and expectations she half-expected to fail, and she was damned if she’d let any of that ruin her fun here, away from Holst’s perfection and her family’s critical eye.

“It’s not a big deal, just tea between friends, like you’d have with Mercedes,” Hilda said, turning back to the littered desktop in search of her favorite perfume. “Caspar hardly knows me well enough to have a crush on me, anyway.”

That was the wrong tactic; Annette’s expression turned shrewd.

“I don’t know about that,” she said gleefully, happy to turn the tables. “You’re gorgeous and popular. I bet quite a few people have enormous crushes on you.”

“Oh, stop exaggerating!” Hilda found the perfume bottle and grabbed it like it was a shield.

“Boys _are_ allowed to like you for who you are, not because of your brother’s position or your crest!” Annette proclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at her. “How do you know that isn’t true with Caspar? Maybe he’s working up to asking for your first dance!”

Something odd caught in Hilda’s throat at the implication—it wasn’t anything like that which made her agree to tea! This wasn’t about _her_ , or how others perceived her; Annette was completely barking up the wrong tree. The only thing Hilda was looking for while stuck at the Academy was a good time—and avoiding the things that she was terrible at, as often as possible.

Besides, Caspar wasn’t her type—barely taller than she was, not fun to manipulate into doing errands for her. He was just so _earnest_ , it made Hilda feel bad trying to direct him. Compared to someone like Ferdinand, whose attitude made him prime pickings, Caspar was more like a… little brother. That’s all it was—nonsense!

“You’ll tell me all about it, won’t you? Everything he says and does?” Annette’s gooey expression, and the glow of certainty in her eyes made Hilda want to cringe.

Yeah, this had gone on long enough. Hilda just needed to distract her romance-obsessed friend with another subject—and she had the perfect choice in mind.

“Oh my, the upcoming ball has really gone to your head!” she said, waving an airy hand in an unaffected way. “Caspar's a sweetie, but he's barely taller than I am! He’s not really the ideal dance partner—you know, looking up into his eyes while he leads, or getting swept off your feet?”

The stars in Annette’s eyes dimmed, and Hilda went in for the kill.

“He's not... you know, Dimitri. Or Sylvain. Or even Felix,” she said slyly.

The diminutive redhead flushed at the mention of the Duke of Fraldarius’s scion, her cheeks awash in a color that almost matched her hair. Confirmation!

“Felix is a big meanie, I don't know why you're including him,” Annette protested, digging in the knife further. “He lives to make other people feel foolish about their sing—um, interests! Anyway, it’s ridiculous. Can you imagine him actually showing up at the ball unless dragged there bodily by Sylvain?”

Ooh, this promised to be good. Hilda had noticed the glances Felix regularly cast at her younger friend in the dining hall, but Annette’s general obliviousness had hinted at something one-sided. But this vehement reaction suggested some delicious back story. Now Hilda could add another couple to her mental list to keep an eye on, just in case they needed a helpful nudge. Watching Ferdinand constantly screw up with Dorothea was only fun for so long.

“As for the other guys you mentioned, they have their own issues,” Annette continued. “Sylvain doesn't see women's personalities, just their looks. He’s probably an amazing dancer, but I wouldn’t waste an important first dance on him. And Dimitri's the prince! He has to end up with someone amazing, like… you!”

“My goodness, you don’t need to list their attributes like I’m evaluating them as a future husband, it’s just a ball,” Hilda sighed. “Try to lighten up, Annette! The world can be fun if we look for it. We’re both still young, and we should try to enjoy ourselves as much as we can while we still have time left.”

Annette’s face fell, and they exchanged a look of resignation that Hilda had found among most of the crest-bearing women she knew—the awareness that their futures were not theirs to choose. Hilda had every intention to avoid that reality for as long as possible, using every trick in the book to keep things the way they were.

“Anyway, I ought to be going. Wouldn’t want to make my _good friend_ Caspar wait, you know!” she said, rising to her feet. “Have a great afternoon, Annette!”

“Just make sure you tell me everything later!” the redhead grinned. “Promise.”

Hilda smirked, and shooed her out the door. “Maybe after you tell me what Felix did that has you so pissed at him.”

* * *

Despite Annette’s interrogation, Hilda made it to the dining hall in good time, strolling inside a few minutes after the monastery bells struck the hour. What greeted her was a pretty spread of two plates, teacups, and teapots on the table nearest the first entrance that led to the fish pond. Caspar was in conversation with a couple of the kindly ladies who worked as chefs, grinning when one of them patted his cheek before adding several hand pies to the serving plate on the counter between them. Hilda’s stomach rumbled in anticipation.

When he turned away with the food-laden platter, his cerulean eyes caught hers and brightened.

“Great timing, Hilda! Look at the haul I got from our wonderful chefs!”

Hilda’s mouth literally watered at the array of pastries, fruit, and savory treats—and was that sweet bun trio? Exclaiming in delight, she thanked the two chefs, who smiled and waved her off to eat. Caspar had set down the platter in the middle of the table, and waited to sit down after she chose the chair with the fish pond entrance at her back. He even waited till she’d filled her plate before helping himself. So chivalrous from a guy she mostly knew to be hot-headed.

“What an amazing spread on short notice, thank you so much, Caspar!” she exclaimed. “And oooh, is that Albinean berry blend in that teapot? That’s one of my favorites!”

“It is? I mean—yeah, of course it is!” he grinned. “I know you’re starving, so don’t stand on ceremony, eat!”

They attacked the food with gusto, and Hilda couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this hungry—or loved the taste of food quite this much. The mood at the table was relaxed, and she inwardly dismissed all of Annette’s speculation about silly first dances and crushes and all of that. The other girl was clearly projecting her own hopes onto Hilda, and clearly needed an intervention later on the value of fun and not taking things too seriously.

When she’d cleared her plate and gone back for seconds, Hilda was more than ready for conversation to enliven what was already a lovely meal.

“How are things in the Black Eagles? Is Edelgard as strict a taskmaster as she appears?”

Caspar leaned back in his chair, his teacup in his hands. “She’s probably as strict as Claude is a prankster, from what I hear.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny Claude’s shenanigans.” Hilda leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. “But that’s as true a statement as any I’ve heard.”

Caspar chuckled, and the sound was cheerful.

“Even in the Black Eagles House, we’ve heard about some of Claude’s better pranks. I don’t know how he manages to pull those over on Professor Hanneman as often as he does, but they make for great stories!”

Hilda rolled her eyes at how quickly things got exaggerated once they hit the gossip mills. “Get Hanneman talking about crests, and I could probably construct an entire necklace at my school desk and he’d hardly notice. It’s so _boring_. The Blue Lions are so lucky they have Professor Byleth. She seems so put together, so capable.”

Caspar nodded vigorously. “Her fighting skills are incredible! I’ve sparred her in the training grounds and lost every time. She’s beaten everyone who tries. I bet half of our house would transfer to her class in a heartbeat if they weren’t afraid of Edelgard’s reaction.”

Hilda toyed with the ends of her hair. “I’ve thought about transferring in a few times. But I’d feel guilty about leaving Claude.”

“Claude can take care of himself.” Caspar’s tone was so earnest, it took her by surprise. “You should do what you need for you!”

What a fantastical concept! Maybe it was true for second sons where it wasn’t for crest-bearing noblewomen. All the same, Hilda appreciated his attempt to rally her spirits, like Annette did.

“Maybe. I mean, I’ve heard Lysithea and Marianne talking about transferring, too, after Dorothea joined the Blue Lions.”

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned. “She left over three weeks ago and people are still grumbling.”

Hilda leaned forward in anticipation. “Ooh, tell me what happened. You can’t leave a girl dangling after gossip without a juicy morsel or two!”

Caspar chuckled and obliged her.

“The complaining has been non-stop when she was chosen to dance for the Blue Lions in the White Heron Cup,” he said. “Professor Manuela had to settle for Ferdinand, which meant the rest of us had to listen to how great he thought he was. Made me think hard about joining Dorothea in that class, gotta be honest.”

Hilda giggled, and took a sip of her tea. “Well, Ferdinand was very... _graceful_ in the competition.”

“Not as much as you or Dorothea were. I thought you’d win, but Dorothea pulled it out in the end.”

“You were there?” Hilda sat back in her chair in surprise.

He nodded. “Edelgard made us all go, she claimed for house unity. But I think it was to see if Ferdinand made a fool of himself.”

“Well that makes me feel a bit better,” Hilda giggled. “Not that I expected to beat a former opera star!”

“Come on, you were just as good as she was! All of the motions looked relaxed and flowing, like a good sword form.”

His words brought a warm glow in her chest, like the hot tea had done. “Aw, Caspar, was that a compliment? You’re so sweet!”

“Oh, sure.” Caspar gulped down his tea, but not before Hilda caught the tinge of pink flushing his cheeks. It was super endearing.

Behind him, Annette and Mercedes entered through the courtyard entrance wearing aprons. Hilda was startled by the rush of annoyance she felt at their appearance. Were they checking up on her? Honestly!

Caspar followed the direction of his gaze and hollered a greeting. Both women stopped short, then hurried in their direction, looking chagrined.

“Oh my, I hope we’re not interrupting! It’s nearly four, and I found my mother’s recipe for Petits Fours, but we could always bake another time!” Mercedes said in a rush.

“Hey, come on, this is a public space, do what ya like!” Caspar responded with a genuine smile. “What you’re making sounds delicious, and Hilda and I are just hanging out over a good meal. Maybe save us a few to try?”

“Of course!” Annette beamed.

“Your tea spread looks lovely, and Hilda, is that Albinean berry blend?” Mercedes’ eyes lit up when Hilda nodded. “That’s one of my favorites, too! Yours smells heavenly.”

“Why don’t ya brew some up while you bake? I left the kettle on the stove top.”

Annette clapped her hands together in glee. “Great idea, Caspar! But don’t mind us, you keep talking like we’re not here.”

Feeling more charitable, Hilda smiled when Annette met her eyes, the redhead’s gaze apologetic. Honestly, if it was really close to four, that meant they’d been here close to an hour! It felt like only minutes. Spending time with Caspar was a lot more laid-back and enjoyable than she’d ever imagined.

The two Blue Lions girls headed towards the section of counters nearest the ovens to make dough, and Caspar returned his attention to her. He launched into a tale about the time Linhardt had fallen asleep in the back lines on a mission, and Edelgard had chewed him out the entire way home. Hilda giggled at the image of the Adrestian princess red-faced and shouting at a fellow noble.

She responded with a silly story of the time that Lysithea was so furious with Claude before a training exercise, she refused to listen to any command he gave, only moving if Hilda or Hanneman echoed it.

Caspar leaned his elbow on the table, his eyes wide. “Seriously? She just outright disobeyed her House Leader?”

Hilda grinned at the memory. “No, she’s way too clever for that. Always it was she couldn’t hear him. Too much noise, or she was too far away.”

Caspar slapped his hand on his leg and laughed—a jovial sound Hilda wouldn’t mind hearing over and over. Especially since it wasn’t at her expense.

“Okay, how did the standoff end?” he asked, eyes gleaming. “This has got to be good.”

“Only if you consider bribing the opposition a good ending to a battle!”

He looked so stupefied that Hilda giggled.

“What? How?”

“Claude gave her some candy he had in his rations, and it was like a whole new Lysithea appeared. She wiped out half the opposition with two spells afterwards, then demanded the remaining sweets for full forgiveness.”

“That’s amazing!” Caspar chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Lin usually can’t be bothered to blast away an opponent if he’s sleepy. Maybe we ought to try some candy on him, see if it keeps him awake!”

Hilda shot him a conspiratorial wink. “Just don’t take it from Lysithea’s stash, or you’ll be facing Luna A in the dormitories.”

“As long as she thinks Lin’s responsible, we’re safe.” He waited a beat, expression deadpan, then grinned. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

Hilda laughed uproariously at the imagined scene—an enraged Lysithea chasing the sleepiest person she’d ever seen, demanding the return of her candy.

A disruption behind her made Hilda turn around. Sylvain strolled inside, followed by a grumbling Felix.

“—For the last time, Sylvain, I’m not going to the blasted ball, and I don’t need to hear another thing about it!” Felix was red-faced in irritation.

It was almost comical when a chorus of giggles from Annette and Mercedes’ corner of the dining hall froze him in his tracks. Hilda watched with interest when Felix caught sight of Annette laughing over a cup of tea, and his face went from red to white. Those two were hopeless, no doubt about it.

Sylvain was equally aware of his friend’s reaction, if his next words were any indication.

“Why if it isn’t Mercedes and Annette!” He slapped an arm over his flustered friend’s shoulder and steered them in the direction of the ovens. “Whatever you’re baking smells incredible. Got any extras to spare?”

“Hey, we’ve got first dibs!” Caspar shouted goodnaturedly.

Mercedes looked up from where she was cleaning leftover flour and dough off of the wooden cutting board, and smiled. “Don’t worry, we made a triple batch in case anyone else showed up!”

“Heck yeah!” Caspar crowed, with a first pump.

Hilda giggled at the look on Felix’s face, torn between disgusted and furtive. He hadn’t stopped staring at Annette since Sylvain had dragged him over there. What wonderful theater this had become!

“Nnything you’re willing to spare us would be fantastic, Mercedes,” Sylvain said, smiling broadly. “Your beautiful soul is too kind to us all.”

“Oh Sylvain, enough of the false praise!” Mercedes said, but didn’t look displeased. “It wasn’t just me, Annie helped! Baking Petits Fours was her idea, after all.”

Everyone looked at Annette, who blushed self-consciously. “Hopefully they turn out as well as Mercie described!”

Sylvain grinned. “More for me, Hilda, and Caspar, then. Felix here is a spoilsport.”

“Lay off, Sylvain!” Felix shoved out from under the taller man’s arm, and stalked a few feet away, arms folded—but still in sight of Annette. “There’s more to life than sweets.”

“Actually Felix, we have one you might like, thanks to Annie!” Mercedes smiled, and Annette hastily tossed back her tea when Felix refocused on her. “It was her idea to make one portion savory instead of sweet.”

Hilda leaned her elbows on the table, and caught Caspar’s eye. “They’re putting on quite a show, aren’t they?”

He leaned in, his face confused. “What do you mean? They’re just talking about food.”

Hilda grinned, pleased to be the one to instruct Caspar in the finer art of reading people’s repressed feelings through their body language. “To survive a boring future stuck in parlors and ballrooms, noblewomen quickly learn the skill of reading what people really are thinking, even if they don’t say it. You can tell by how they stand, their expressions, the way they might move with a nervous habit, like Annette is doing now.”

Caspar looked taken aback, and Hilda feared she’d miscalculated—he was a guy who loved to fight. What interest would he have in watching other people's behavior? Then his face transformed to one of interest.

“Wow, you can tell that from those little details? You’re so much smarter than you let on, Hilda!”

“I’m just good at survival,” she demurred.

Caspar gave her a chiding look, but it was light-hearted, not weighed down with the kind of disapproval Hilda had seen thousands of times at home.

“Yeah, not listening to that, you’re plenty smart. So… how does it work?”

Cheered, Hilda picked up her teacup and plate, then rose and walked around to settle in the chair next to Caspar. Placing them on the table in front of her, she leaned on her elbows, head turned in the direction of the bantering Blue Lions students.

“Okay, watch and learn while this unfolds. Sylvain probably knew the others were here, especially since he dragged Felix along.”

“I don’t follow,” Caspar said, looking confused.

Hilda grinned. “I’m about to teach you how to figure it out for yourself. Watch Felix right now, what is he doing?”

Caspar covertly looked towards their target. “Um… looking pissed at the world, like he’d love to punch someone? I mean… isn’t that normal with him?”

Hilda giggled at the accurate description. “What happens when he looks at the girls?”

“Uh… hmmm.” Caspar refocused. A companionable silence fell before he answered. “Ohhhh. I think I see what you’re saying. It’s Annette, huh? He’s into her.”

“You’re such a quick study, Caspar!” Hilda beamed.

“Well, I thought about what you said, and remembered how pissed off he got the one time Annette came in to work on ax with me,” he said, looking both pleased and embarrassed from the praise. “It makes so much sense now!”

“Plus, it’s highly entertaining!” Hilda grinned. “At least until you watch the same thing play out over and over.”

“So, you think Sylvain is here for Mercedes?” Caspar asked, turning to study the tall red-haired man.

Hilda followed the direction of his gaze. At some point during their conversation, Mercedes had pulled out the bite-size pastries from the dutch oven that had been inserted into the open flames of the oven, and transferred them to a cooling rack. While conversing with Sylvain, she worked alongside Annette, mixing up some kind of delectable sugary glaze in different colors to pour over the treats when they’d cooled enough.

“So, Mercedes, have you given away your first dance to anyone yet?” Sylvain asked, his voice echoing in the high ceilings of the dining hall. “Looking forward to getting swept off your feet at the ball?”

“ _That’s_ his angle,” Hilda murmured. “It’s that silly first dance nonsense Annette’s been obsessing over.”

“You mean there’s all of this production about… asking someone to dance?” Caspar looked rather adorably confused. “What’s the big deal, it’s just a dance, right?”

Hilda recounted what Annette had told her earlier.

“Huh, we don’t do that in Adrestia,” Caspar said, shifting so he was looking at her again. “So if that’s Sylvain’s goal, is that why he dragged Felix along, to encourage him to ask Annette?”

Hilda shrugged. “I doubt Felix has the guts to say anything. Annette is almost as bad.”

Caspar looked pensive, his brows deepening into a vee, and Hilda wondered what about the situation had him thinking like that. She probably ought to explain that interfering in other people’s lives had never gone well for her, but Mercedes’ loud giggle interrupted them.

“Oh Sylvain, you’re wasting your time practicing your lines on me!”

“Would I lie to you, Mercedes? We’re classmates!” Sylvain gave her a puppy dog look. “And I’m sure you’re an exquisite dancer!”

“I’m not worth chasing after,” Mercedes demurred.

Shoulders hunched, she spooned pinkish icing over several rows of bite-sized, layered pastries. Beside her, Annette added a mixture of coarse salt and chopped nuts on top of differently shaped pastries.

“No one deserves Sylvain’s pick up lines,” Felix grumbled.

There was a pause before everyone snickered—even the chefs working in the other end of the kitchen. Annette’s mirth was so pronounced her shoulders shook, and she shot Felix a grin before refocusing on her task.

“You know, I kind of feel bad for him.” Caspar leaned over to speak in Hilda’s ear. “I think he really wants her to dance.”

“Felix is hopeless,” Hilda whispered back. “Cats will fly before he asks Annette to dance.”

Caspar shook his head. “I meant Sylvain. I was looking at how he was standing, like you said. And he got tense when we all laughed just now.”

Hilda cocked her head, startled by Caspar’s perspicacity. Well, well, she’d missed that little detail—perhaps Sylvain actually had feelings. She’d never have believed it of him, given her own interactions with the aggressive flirt, but Caspar’s certainty was compelling.

“Why doesn’t he just ask Mercedes honestly, without all of the fake stuff?” Caspar asked, shrugging his shoulders expressively. “She might say yes if she believed he meant it!”

“Well… not everyone is comfortable putting their feelings out there, in case the other person isn’t interested. It hurts to be rejected.”

Hilda heard the catch in her tone at the end, and hated it. So much of her life had been about shrugging off that very feeling. Holst had always been better, had always been put forward as the shining example she was supposed to emulate. But like the sun above, he’d always been too bright, too perfect to keep up with.

It shocked her to feel the depth of that horrid emotion here, of all times, when she’d been having so much fun. Thankfully, Caspar hadn’t noticed her lapse.

“Huh.” He screwed up his face in thought, then turned cerulean eyes earnestly on her. “I mean… how is avoiding the risk of rejection gonna solve anything? You could end up just... pining for someone for a long time, and never know what you could have had if you’d just asked.”

Still reeling from the unwanted emotions the situation had brought up, Hilda simply nodded. “I suppose that’s true. And it’s… rather sad, when you put it like that.”

“We can’t have that, not when the ball is supposed to be a break from all of the bad stuff going on lately,” Caspar declared. “I have an idea, if you wanna help me?”

His enthusiasm was infectious, and Hilda found herself smiling. Caspar really was a sweetheart, and she’d never seen it before. It was more than endearing, it was… reassuring. Kind. Appealing on a level she’d never imagined, because it was completely genuine.

“I’m with you!” she agreed, giving him a fist pump.

“Okay, just follow my lead,” he said, and got to his feet.

Hilda watched with wide eyes when Caspar whistled loudly, a sharp shrill sound she’d heard the Goneril gameskeeper use to summon his hounds. Everyone in the room whirled to face him.

“You know, Sylvain, if you want Mercedes to dance with you, just ask honestly. People value sincerity and trust those who have it,” Caspar said, his tone firm but kind. “Watch what I mean!”

Turning to Hilda, he smiled widely at her, “Hey Hilda, would you dance the first dance with me at the ball?”

She gaped, stunned by the question, by the open, genuine way he’d asked her, and her heart rate picked up. It tanked when she remembered this was a demonstration for the others to follow. Hiding her strange disappointment, she gave him a wide smile and allowed herself the fantasy of feeling like the question was real.

“Of course, Caspar! I’m so honored to be asked, and in such a sincere manner.”

His face brightened, lit with joy that Hilda didn’t believe was feigned—she was an expert on that, after all. Her own smile felt sappy and strangely… real. Were they actually going to dance together after all?

“See?” Caspar turned around to look at his audience. “This is supposed to be fun!”

Sylvain’s face was nakedly vulnerable for a moment, and Hilda wondered what about the older man’s background had driven him to pursue the role of ladies’ man. But she immediately forgot it when he slowly turned to Mercedes.

“Mercedes, I would really like to dance with you at the ball,” he said, sounding more sincere than Hilda had imagined possible. “If you would consent to giving me your first dance?”

Mercedes’ face turned a sweet shade of pink, and she fidgeted with the pastries in her hands. A warm smile spread on her face, sweeter than anything she’d baked.

“I would love to dance the first with you, Sylvain,” she said. “Thank you for asking me. I’m looking forward to it!”

A long moment passed, with the two of them grinning at each other. Hilda was shocked when Felix strode over to join his friend, and faced a smiling Annette across the counter. The redhead’s expression immediately shifted into a combination of emotions—astonishment, uncertainty, and… hope?

An awkward few seconds passed, and Hilda held her breath.

“Can I, uh...” Felix’s voice trailed off.

Annette turned red, and he squared his shoulders, and asked in a rush, “Can I have a savory pastry... Please?”

“Oh! Um. Sure!” Annette turned redder, and looked pleased. “Yeah. Here you go!”

She shoved a pastry at him, and Felix hesitated a moment before taking it. Their hands lightly brushed during the exchange, and it was adorable, if sadly predictable. Hilda made a mental note to look for them on the dance floor anyway.

Who knew that Caspar’s secret ability was using the courage of his convictions to help everyone around him?

Hilda was startled from her thoughts when Caspar returned to his chair, his face spread in a grin.

“That worked out well, doncha think?”

His enthusiasm was infectious, and Hilda wanted to share it with him. If only that knot of uncertainty would unravel in her gut, about whether he’d actually asked her to dance for real.

They looked at each other and the mood shifted, intimate and uncertain. Hilda gathered her courage and told herself that if Caspar could do it, so could she.

“You're still going to be my first dance, right?” It felt like she could hear her heart thudding in her ears.

He shifted nervously and blushed. “Uh... you don't want someone else? Not that I wouldn't want to dance with you! Because I do.”

Hilda felt the silly grin spread on her face, but was too elated to hide it. His question had been real after all! Her entire body felt warm, and the feeling was so new, she wondered what she’d been missing all this time.

“I'd very much enjoy sharing my first dance with you,” she confessed. “We had so much fun, and I'm really here for that! Thank you for asking me.”

Caspar’s corresponding smile made her insides melt. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we have plenty of fun. You’re right that’s the most important thing.”

When she’d entered the dining hall, Hilda had believed she was merely returning a favor. Against her wildest expectations, she’d gotten a lot more than that—someone who spoke his mind and openly valued her, without strings attached. Someone she could trust.

The world suddenly felt brighter, full of possibility. And she couldn’t wait to see what other surprises were in store.

**Author's Note:**

> Roxy, I really hope this was worth the wait! I'm sorry it's so late. 
> 
> For anyone else who took a flier on this fic, thank you so much! I hope this was as much fun to read as it was to write--once I knew what I was doing! It kept growing and growing as I went along, and I found myself writing a much deeper look into Hilda's personality, wishes, and dreams than I expected. Being mostly a Felannie writer, it was challenging to make sure I had her and Caspar's voicing correct, and their motivations. But writing them actively watching Felix and Annette dance around each other till Caspar decided to end the stalemate in a positive way was a real treat for me. Thank you all for reading, comments and feedback of any kind is appreciated!
> 
> Come visit me at [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/Kaerra3)


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